Skinny Love
by Sweetlittlenina
Summary: Life for Peeta and Katniss before the Victory Tour. Come on skinny love, what happened here? Not a songfic.


Hi guys, new story. :)

The POV switches from Katniss to Peeta. Peeta's in italics.

This was after the games, and before the victory tour. If you want, you can go to my page and read my story I wrote earlier this summer for Peeta and Katniss's life pre-epilogue.

More chapters will come soon. I'm so excited to work on this new project.

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I'm not much of a good person anymore.

Maybe I never was.

I kick at the pebbles that approach me in my path. I had ditched my bow in its usual place in the forest. A sheath of arrows is slung over my right shoulder, and my empty game bag is slung over my left. It lightly hits my side with every step, scolding me on my lack of focus for today's hunt. My hair was sloppily braided this morning after waking up from a fresh round of nightmares.

_I crack two smooth white eggs on my kitchen counter before feeding the contents to a clean white bowl. Then, I swiftly let a cup of flour spill into the bowl before I start to mix it all together. My kitchen is overpowered with the aroma of freshly baked bread. But this is my escape._

I take the long way back to the Victors' Village. It's still late afternoon and I'm not in the mood to see anyone. Gale had confessed his love for me a couple of days ago and sealed it with a terrible timed kiss; and I was still reeling in the awkward air of it all. I hadn't seen him since.

_I add two cups of milk to the mix and stir numbly. This is good. I bake on autopilot, and I almost always manage to clear my head of any thoughts. Unfeeling. Paralyzed. Numb. This is the closest I will ever come to happiness._

My house is nearing with every trudging step I take. Now I'm being avoided by two people in my life. Two people that are on my list of those I want to protect the most. I start to see the roof his house, towering next to mine.

_My hand freezes on my spoon as I turn around to see the ongoing sunset. She should be home from hunting soon._

It's funny, because there are so many things I need to tell him. So many touches and caresses I need to take back, but I don't want to. And I don't know how.

_I continue my stirring, but my hand grips the spoon with newfound frustration. I was so naïve. I must've seemed like a lovesick, stupid little boy. I shouldn't have expected her to feel the same. This isn't a fairytale._

There are a clump of trees near the side of my house. I find myself walking up towards them and hiding myself against a trunk. I should talk to him. Tell him everything I'm sorry for. Ask if we can be friends again. Say I miss him, because I do.

_My gaze flits from the bowl in my hands to two raisin-and-nut loaves of bread on a white porcelain plate on my kitchen table. I ditch my spoon and bowl and pick the plate up in my hands, the fresh smell still lingering. Should I?_

Should I? I peek around the corner of the tree trunk like a small child playing hide and seek. His house is still there, with the lights on. Smoke drifts up from his chimney as usual. I'm about to ditch my bag and arrows when I see his empty eyes in my mind, and feel the loose grasp of his hand in mine. I see his face after we kissed, so bright and full of pure, unadulterated joy. Then I see the bright blue dim at the train tracks, when it all became clear. That I was a heartless, selfish girl.

_I weight the plate, still in my firm grip. My mind drifts to the Victory Tour that's approaching in a week. In one week, I can see her every day again. Feel her touch, her gaze on my lips before she leans in. Then my heart stops and I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. It's fake._

It's fake. I can only imagine how hard it is for him, knowing in a week's time I'll be kissing him and cuddling him, and how much he wants for it to be real. No. I won't do this to him. I straighten and tighten my grip on my bow.

_I won't do this to her. I loosen my tight jaw and walk towards the trash bin._

I approach my porch steps and climb them one by one, avoiding how close Peeta's house is. How close he is. His smell, bright blue eyes, childlike enthusiasm.

_I think of her walking home. Surely she must think about me sometimes. Then why doesn't she visit? My gaze drops to the raisin-and-nut loaves on the plate. Why don't I ever visit?_

I can't do this.

_I can't do this._

I open my door to let myself in, and find myself slamming it shut, out of frustration.

_I tilt the plate over the trash bin and let the loaves slip down into their unforgiving death. Just as they land with a thud at the bottom, I hear Katniss's door slam shut._

"Katniss?" I hear my mother's tentative voice drift in from the kitchen. "There's someone here to see you." I hear the waver in her voice and my hunting instincts warn me. There's something wrong. I just want this to end.

_I crack another egg into the bowl. I just want this to end._

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Please review! It'll keep me going.

No reviews = me probably not updating for a couple weeks out of lack of response.


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